Ethnomusicology Stands at an Interesting and Important Historical Junc- Ture

Introduction

HENRY STOBART

Ethnomusicology stands at an interesting and important historical junc- ture. In many music departments, in Britain at least, its practices have acquired increasing relevance over recent years—shifting it away from the margins and from automatic identification with the exotic. In some ways, ethnomusicology has come to represent a conduit through which a more open, reflexive, representative, democratic and interdisciplinary approach to the study of music might be achieved. It also offers a range of method- ologies, some of which have become increasing pertinent with the shifting priorities and foci of music scholarship. If others involved in the study of music seem ready to embrace what ethnomusicology might have to offer—as a critical pillar to the edifice of music scholarship, are ethnomusicologists prepared to welcome and nurture these advances, or clear what might be expected from them? Also, are they ready to define an agenda and to actively engage with a wider conception of music scholarship and with the world beyond? While their discipline’s relevance to music scholarship may have grown, ethnomusicologists may also wish to consider the broader disciplinary context and reception of their contribution. Social scientists have fre- quently identified the rich potential of music for examining a broad range of social issues. But, are other disciplines engaging deeply with the work of ethnomusicologists, looking to them for guidance or even opening up new positions for them in, for example, anthropology or sociology departments? If not, why not? The roots of this volume stretch back to 17 November 2001 and a conference of the British Forum for Ethnomusicology (BFE) entitled “The New (Ethno)musicologies”, during which earlier versions of several of the chapters were presented. The conference came close in the wake of 9:11 and the ongoing traumas and tragedies stemming from it have continued to overshadow the gestation of this book. Some of these historical interven- tions find their way into this volume giving new and heightened significance to its title (see Bohlman), but the original intention of the conference had been to examine the relationship between ethnomusicology and so-called “new musicology”. From the late 1980s, musicology had appar- 2 Stobart ently undergone radical transformation, leading many to describe it as “new”; but what about ethnomusicology? Were its theories and methodol- ogies lagging behind, stranded in the 1970s and 1980s, or to the contrary had musicology simply been catching up? Alternatively, without re- branding itself as “new”, had ethnomusicology also transformed? If so, what was new in and for ethnomusicology, and what directions might it now wish to take? The chapters in this volume explore some of these questions, firstly focusing on ethnomusicology’s disciplinary relationships, and secondly reflecting on a few potential areas for future development. The title The New (Ethno)musicologies betrays some of the hallmarks of a name dreamt up by a committee. Indeed, it was the joint labour of the 2001 BFE committee. Each added detail was intended to heighten the sense of provocation and to invite curiosity. The contributors to this volume have interpreted the title in varying ways; some embracing the idea and possibility of disciplinary renewal (or at least reinvigoration) and providing practical suggestions. Others have used it as a kind of rhetorical device to question or explore notions of “newness”, disciplinary relations or the status of ethnomusicology and the plurality it encompasses. Since the 1950s, discussion about disciplinary developments in Eth- nomusicology has largely centred on the North American context. Alt- hough this book engages with these debates (especially as played out in the pages of Ethnomusicology), it reflects for the most part the perspectives of European (especially British) scholars and the experience of working within European institutional contexts. As part of the Europea series it also challenges ethnomusicology to return to its European disciplinary past.

WHAT IS ETHNOMUSICOLOGY?

One objective of this book is to explore how ethnomusicology and its contribution are viewed from the perspective of other disciplines. The very term “ethnomusicology” is obscure and puzzling to most people outside music academia, typically leading practitioners to avoid it and find alternative ways of explaining what they do. Nonetheless, in the UK at least, it is becoming increasingly difficult to go through a music degree without at least some exposure to ethnomusicology or ethnomusicologists. For most, this takes the form of courses in World Music, which are likely to be delivered by an ethnomusicologist— potentially leading students to associate ethnomusicology with “exotic” or “other” musics. Historically, such teaching has provided ethnomusicologists with employment and a clearly defined—even if sometimes marginalised—area of expertise within Music Introduction 3

Departments dominated by Western Art Music. Indeed, gaining a lecture- ship in ethnomusicology in a Music Department is still likely to depend on expertise in a form of music that is perceived as adequately exotic. Even if today’s ethnomusicologists like to think of their discipline as defined by methodology rather than object of study—where all music is potentially open to scrutiny, institutional mechanisms and traditional perceptions about disciplinary boundaries often tell a different story and continue to shape the job market. In order to explore perceptions about ethnomusicology and its contribution among students in a Music Department, I conducted a simple survey at Royal Holloway by circulating an email message to all undergraduate and postgraduate music students. The message was sent out during the summer vacation and stressed that the survey was entirely optional. Some 25% of registered students chose to respond to the following three questions:

(1) What is ethnomusicology? (2) What do ethnomusicologists do? (3) How does ethnomusicology contribute to the study of music?

Although asked not to spend more than a few moments responding, some replies were immensely sophisticated and thought provoking. As the ma- jority of these students’ contact with ethnomusicology would have been in the context of the compulsory first year undergraduate course, Introduc- tion to World Music, an automatic identification with “other” or “exotic” musics might be expected, especially given that high competence in West- ern Art Music performance is a usual programme admission requirement. However, less than 30% of the responses specified any connection with musics from outside “Western (Art Music)” traditions; most of these cases simply presenting this as a tendency. Some 18% identified the comparative nature of ethnomusicology, even though most would have been una- ware of the discipline’s roots in Comparative Musicology. Over 50% of the responses related ethnomusicology to “culture” in some way; often characterising it as the study of music “in” or “as” culture, where context and social dynamics were viewed as critically important. A sense of “newness” (see also Bohlman’s chapter) was volunteered by some; the idea that ethnomusicology offers “new” perspectives on what is musically possible, for example, providing “new answers to old musicology questions” or expanding compositional possibilities. A good number of respondents stressed the discipline’s concern with “understanding others” and their music, and its role in dispelling ignorance and prejudice—leading us to “listen, communicate and open up barriers between 4 Stobart different cultures”. According to one, ethnomusicologists are “the true ambassadors for the study of music” as they integrate themselves into communities of musicians. These perceptions connect ethnomusicology with a powerful ethical, humanitarian and political agenda; one that also attempts to see power and hierarchies for what they are. In the words of one respondent, ethnomusicology “encourages a non-hierarchical, non- judgemental, democratic approach to all forms and locations of musical activity”. It is striking how these student respondents connected ethnomusicology with a sense of social awareness and political engagement; a theme developed by several authors in this volume and which might be seen to lie at the heart of what many practitioners do or wish to engage with as a group. There is strong sense that the practice of ethnomusicology is often closely linked with values; as reflected in the way particular ancestors are selectively welcomed into the discipline’s hall of fame, held at a safe dis- tance, or quietly excluded. For example, Alice Fletcher’s campaign for Omaha land rights in the 1880s, alongside her music research, continues to provide a model to which many might wish to aspire (Myers in Fletcher 1994: xxvi).

QUESTIONS OF DISCIPLINE

The first part of the book focuses principally, but by no means exclusive- ly, on issues of discipline—although whether ethnomusicology should be characterised as a discipline, field, or method has often been debated. Two extended chapters by Nicholas Cook and Philip Bohlman are placed between groups of short, informal and intentionally provocative essays. Edi- torially, I have actively encouraged and intentionally maintained the informal language found in many of these shorter essays. This aims to communicate the verbal and collective nature of the discussion and dia- logue that has structured the entire project. Some of the contributions to this first part, especially Bohlman’s chapter, also provide much of relevance for the second half of the book, which largely consists of more con- crete proposals for future development in ethnomusicology. The first three short and informal essays provide views of ethnomusicology from scholars working respectively in Musicology (Jim Samson), Anthropology (Michelle Bigenho) and Popular Music Studies (Fabian Holt). While Samson and Holt are both sympathetic to ethnomusicological approaches, the former now involved in a major research project in the Balkans and the latter applying ethnographic approaches to the study of popular music, Bigenho provides a powerful and provocative critique. Introduction 5

Reflecting on a review he wrote of the book “Silk and Bamboo” Mu- sic in Shanghai by the ethnomusicologist Lawrence Wizleben, Jim Sam- son identifies (from his perspective as a historical musicologist) the ongoing reluctance of ethnomusicologists to give status to the aesthetic and to make their own statements, based on analytical probing, independent of context or validation by insiders (a point later developed by Stock in this volume, see also Agawu 2003:183). Yet, Samson also observes an equal need for historical musicologists to foreground practice in the writing of music history, where, for example, more is made of music’s performative and spatial aspects, and of its social agency. He gives us the sense that there is some way to go before such aspects are fully integrated into mainstream musicological practice, despite Nicholas Cook’s suggestion (later in this volume) that such characterisations of musicology are outdated. Samson goes on to stress the plurality of music scholarship and notes the divergence of traditions placed under the umbrella “ethnomusicology”. It is striking how in many parts of the world “ethnomusicology” is identified with the documentation and mapping of a nation’s own indigenous, folk and (sometimes) popular music traditions, whereas in Western Eu- rope and the USA it was connected, historically at least, with the study of the music of other nations or peoples. However, as Samson observes, identifying the former with a conservative wariness to engage with broader comparative and interpretative questions and the latter with a more ad- venturous and anthropological approach, does not always hold true on closer inspection. He identifies the gap between these approaches narrow- ing and points to many productive conversations within music studies, but—as he stresses—not across the disciplines. On the face of it, the work of Michelle Bigenho would seem to fit neatly into the category of “ethnomusicology”. Her thought-provoking writings often feature Andean music performance in Peru, Bolivia and Japan, and her critical insights on themes such as authenticity, nationalism and performance intersect closely with debates among ethnomusicologists. But Bigenho strongly resists the label “ethnomusicologist”, and not simply because her training is in anthropology. For her, the label carries a range of problematic assumptions: firstly that music is her object of study, secondly that it would necessarily involve her “mapping” the region of her presumed expertise, and thirdly that her participation as a “musician” would provide some kind of privileged “insider” status. Whether her views reflect stereotypes, misrepresentations or real problems in the discipline, Bigenho is surely not alone. (She has simply been brave enough to express them publicly, following my active encour- agement. I, for one, am deeply grateful for her honesty). Importantly, she forces ethnomusicologists to reflect on fundamental aspects of their disci- 6 Stobart pline and on the wider reception of their work. I am surely not alone in my concern about what seems to be a one-way flow of knowledge and influ- ence: ethnomusicologists draw widely on insights and theoretical developments in anthropology, while mainstream anthropology remains largely oblivious to the work of ethnomusicologists (a notable exception is Mi- chael Herzfeld’s Anthropology: Theoretical Practice in Culture and So- ciety 2001). In the context of many of the discussions and assumptions in this volume, which largely focus on a more integrated approach to the study of music, to question whether music is ethnomusicologist’s object of study might seem ridiculous or even heretical. Yet, making it the central object of study, Bigenho argues, runs counter to one of ethnomusicology’s major projects; that of bringing music out of the autonomous space afforded it by Western-centred musicology. This begs the basic question of whether one studies music in order primarily (a) to understand “music”, in its broadest sense (Bohlman 1999) or (b) to understand social processes. On the one hand, music might be seen to be intrinsically interesting, important and deserving of study precisely because it is “music”; a widely recognised sphere of cultural activity and discourse which plays a critical role and gives meaning to many people’s lives. If approached reflexively and critically, does this endeavour need justifying any more than other areas of (scholarly) interest or discourse? On the other hand, music may serve as a powerful lens through which to examine a wide range of social, economic and political dynamics. From this essentially anthropological perspective, music is not significant as “music” per se but because it in- forms us about social processes. My own sense is that ethnomusicologists contribute to both these discourses in almost equal measure, but that “music” tends to be in the titles of conferences or panels where they present, or of journals or edited volumes in which they publish, thereby attracting a “music” audience, but also perhaps simultaneously discouraging others. Maybe ethnomusicologists need to get out more; have the courage to ven- ture outside the “music box” and think carefully about how insights from their research can engage with and contribute to broader interdisciplinary debate. Undoubtedly a good number already do this; many often finding their interdisciplinary exchanges with colleagues who focus on similar themes or culture areas more meaningful than those they encounter within music. Nonetheless, judging from Bigenho’s comments, more ethnomusicologists need to be seen to circulate and publish outside “music” and to initiate or participate in more collaborative projects and fora that do not privilege music. Bigenho is also critical of the way in which ethnomusicologists invoke participation in musical performance as a special and privileged form Introduction 7 of ethnographic experience or even “insider-ship”. She suggests that music’s association with talent and skill (in the West), what she calls “the awe factor”, conveys a sense of exclusivity and the implicit message that “non-musicians” simply won’t be able to understand. This may partly ex- plain why many anthropologists are so reluctant to research the music they encounter or to engage with ethnomusicological scholarship—allied perhaps with the view that, as Bigenho notes, ethnomusicologists have “too much fun” participating in music making to have anything theoretically significant to offer. According to Bigenho, more supposed “non- musicians” should learn musical proficiencies and write about social life through the lens of music; a view that juxtaposes interestingly with Stock’s notion of “expert listeners” and Baily’s call for advanced performance proficiency (this volume). Bigenho’s experience of working in a Liberal Arts College provides some striking contrasts to the expectations of institutions organised along departmental lines. For example, to offer a lecture course and bibliography in which almost no reference is made to music, of the kind Bigenho de- scribes, in a music department would be sure to raise a few eyebrows and probably lead students to complain that they chose to study music, not anthropology. Would they be wrong and narrow-minded to make such an assertion? Nonetheless, (in my own experience at least) the issues Bigenho focuses upon in her courses are also regularly addressed in music departments—although using, for the most part, more music-focused literature. It would certainly do no harm to introduce more materials that force music students to “think outside the ‘music’ box” more often; and maybe lectur- ers in music departments should have fewer qualms in this respect. This resonates with contemporary practices in scholarship more generally which, as Nettl has recently observed, have come to stress interpretation based on “stances derived from social theory” (2005:452). How far ethnomusicologists wish to subscribe to this vision of music as social process is another matter. In the third short essay of this group, Fabian Holt provides perspectives from his work on North American Popular Music, which in many respects he approaches as an ethnomusicological insider. As such, he is struck by the low priority given to ethnographic approaches in mainstream popular music scholarship, which he observes is dominated by the Anglo- American canon—with its black/white racial dichotomy. Nonetheless he is also critical of certain forms of cultural prejudice evident among ethnomusicologists. In Holt’s view, not only does ethnomusicology remain mar- ginal to mainstream popular music studies and “strikingly absent” from “New” musicology, but deep differences persist in core conventions about what is studied and how. Tracing parallels between the construction of 8 Stobart musical disciplines and genres, including notions of specialisation and core-boundary distinctions, he argues that cultural hierarchies and genre specific power relations within the academy continue to hinder ethnomusicology’s attempts to become a method rather than a genre discourse. Holt proposes a “poetics of music in-between”, where core-boundary models of genre are complemented by decentred ones that stress movement, transformation and diversity; an approach that might also help erode boundaries within music scholarship. Here we find resonances with Wim van der Meer’s recent call for a “Hybrid Musicology” (2005).

CONVERGENCES OR COLLISIONS?

Holt’s pessimism over how little the boundaries of music scholarship have been eroded contrasts vividly with the optimism of Nicholas Cook. For Cook, musicology has moved on (shedding its “New” on the way); its practices and even objects of study have, in many respects, become indis- tinguishable from those of ethnomusicology. Although nominally a (historical) musicologist specialising in Western art and popular musics, Cook’s wide-ranging approach and engagement with ethnomusicological literature, defies any such simple categorization. Perhaps, to borrow Holt’s expression, he might be characterised as a music scholar “in-between” for whom core-boundary distinctions are irrelevant; maybe even an ethnomusicologist manqué. According to Nicholas Cook, a history of the recent “convergence” of approaches between musicology and ethnomusicology might sensibly at- tribute such developments to mutual collaboration—the sharing of good practice among colleagues. However, as his chapter explains, such convergence was not the result of talking to one another. Rather, following its rise in the late 1980s, “New” musicology turned principally to literary criticism and critical theory for ammunition to critique traditional “positivist” musicology and to find models for a more inclusive musicology. Cook goes on to question whether we can really talk about convergence at all, invoking Jonathan Stock’s (1997) critique of “New” (and old) musicology, which identifies deep and ongoing differences from the practices of ethnomusicology. According to Cook, many of Stock’s characterisations of musicology are outdated and unfair, and he stresses that among the wide range of practices encompassed by “New” musicology (now itself an anachronism), some come closer to ethnomusicology than others. He also singles out musical meaning and performance as areas of special mutual interest, which have continued to grow in importance since the heyday of “New” musicology. Whilst he contends that ethnomusicology and musicology have independently come to adopt similar positions regarding the Introduction 9 study of musical meaning, it is in performance that we find the strongest urge for musicologists to adopt ethnographic techniques. Cook reiterates Tim Rice’s observation that ethnomusicologists have much to learn from the techniques of historical musicology and Shelmay’s call for much closer collaboration between the disciplines in a broader vision of musical scholarship. Among musicologists, Cook is in many respects at the vanguard of disciplinary developments, as evident from, for example, his work on performance, fostering of ethnographic techniques among his research students, and his co-edited volume Empirical Musicology (2004). Despite many differences in theory and practices within broader musical scholarship, Cook sees no particular reason for mapping these on to a distinction between musicology and ethnomusicology. Indeed, given the realities of the modern world—our multiple cultural identities, alongside the blurring of notions of insider and outsider—distinguishing between musicology and ethnomusicology seems, according to Cook, “as hopeless as it is pointless”. In other words, he proclaims, “we are all ethnomusicologists now”. Perhaps the reception of his original paper in the conference would have been smoother if he had not then suggested a simpler option: “we are all musicologists now”.

EXORCISING THE ANCESTORS?

The story is taken up by Laudan Nooshin in the next short essay (previ- ously published in the BFE newsletter, summer 2002, No. 23:17–20); written in response to the discussion provoked by Cook and Bohlman’s original conference papers. (Cook also responds to Nooshin’s comments in the revised version of his chapter presented here). The heated debate ignited by Cook’s paper was clear evidence that disciplinary identity re- mained an emotive issue for many ethnomusicologists, observes Nooshin. She attributes this opposition to joining a unified musicology to ethnomusicology’s long history of defining itself as musicology’s “other”. In the UK, at least, mainstream musicology has historically occupied the centre ground, lending ethnomusicology—through its very marginalisation and alterity—a distinctive identity, set of methods and ethos, as well as a form of power. In this context, it is easy to see how integration with musicology might trigger a crisis of identity or be viewed with suspicion—the fear of being swallowed by a much larger and more powerful discipline. Even so, Nooshin insists, there is much for ethnomusicologists to learn from musicology in its new guise. She also questions our continued attachment to such a clumsy, dinosaur of a name, one that also ties us to a colonial past: its “ethno” simply marking difference from musicology, and its “ology” 10 Stobart asserting institutional power and authority. This leads her to ponder the idea of a more holistic field, perhaps called something like “Music Stud- ies”, which—starting with a level playing field—unites all the fields of music scholarship. To fulfil such a vision would presumably involve abandoning the “ethnos” and “ologies” of the past and in certain respects “exorcising the ancestors”. This was the title of the conference’s roundtable, which emerged from a conversation with the late Gerry Farrell, to whose memory this volume in dedicated. Farrell’s own contribution to the round table was very memorable; a description of his youth in Glasgow, with the vision of a sitar—borrowed from an Indian neighbour—standing in the corner of his family’s modest living room beside the television set. He went on to master the sitar and teach it widely in schools before embark- ing on doctoral research, at which point he discovered people referring to him as an “ethnomusicologist”—a kind of default identity applied to any- body researching music that is perceived as exotic. He had little fondness for this label or for much of its baggage, but it was as an ethnomusicologist that many of us came to know him; an inspiring ancestor who we would certainly not wish to exorcise. In her lively and often poetic essay (originally a roundtable contribution), Caroline Bithell also argues for embracing, rather than exorcising, the ancestors and for keeping their positions on the family tree. A tree whose growth, up until now at least, seems to have been more inspired— and its branches more highly populated—by anthropologists than musicologists. Bithell argues for an open approach which risks controversy, but goes on to question how much ethnomusicology and musicology can really be said to have converged. Rather than following Cook and Nooshin in opting for some kind of unified music studies, she celebrates ethnomusicology as a discipline in its own right precisely because it offers a mar- riage between her two great passions—music and anthropology. She undoubtedly voices the view of many when she observes that she would be sad to part company with her anthropological “half-siblings”—indeed the closest allegiances and most meaningful exchanges and collaborations of many ethnomusicologists are with anthropologists and fellow ethnog- raphers. With all the talk of novelty, and in lamenting today’s empty ethics, Bithell poses what she suggests is probably the biggest question in this whole debate: “what is the new integrity and how do we achieve it?” The contributions that follow, by Ramnarine and Bohlman, touch on various possibilities—perhaps most notably the need for active engagement or activism. In her essay dedicated to the discipline’s wider contribution beyond the academy, Tina K. Ramnarine reflects on the notion of “applied” or Introduction 11

“engaged” ethnomusicology, focusing particularly on the pedagogy of performance. She identifies the recent embrace and growing potential of advocacy and intellectual activism in the discipline (see also Bohlman), suggesting that this emerges from a critical self-awareness and realisation of ethnomusicology’s capacity to confer social benefits. Citing examples of a range of performance and education projects involving collaborations between musicians and scholars, she proposes a “performance-theory- action” model, stressing the social and political potency of such an approach, especially in the area of pedagogy. Driven by a commitment to “cultural equity”, involvement in such projects or even scholarship itself, argues Ramnarine, often leads us to work “against the grain” of musical and other orthodoxies, a theme also taken up by Bohlman in his call for activism. Like Baily’s notion of “intermusability” (this volume), Ramnarine stresses the value of acquiring practical skills from a range of musical traditions for the general development of musicality. But whilst insistent that musical performance, in whatever tradition, should be taught to the high- est level (a theme later developed by Baily), she finds absurd the anxiety ethnomusicologists often express when teaching performance traditions of which they are not themselves “culture bearers”. Echoing the sentiments of Bigenho, Ramnarine attributes this misplaced angst to the mapping of musical styles and transmission processes onto geographic space, in effect carving up an increasingly connected world into “pockets of musical seg- regation”. Further developing this call for a more holistic and socially inclusive approach, she argues that ethnomusicologists should also enter more vigorously into discourses surrounding the pedagogy of Western art music, to which they have much to offer, stressing that this is also a “world music” tradition. Rather than seeking to exorcise the ancestors, Ramnarine’s vision of a socially engaged and inclusive ethnomusicology, explicitly celebrates the inspiration of Bartók’s “brotherhood in spite of all wars and conflicts”. In this we also find a starting point for approaching Bohlman’s contribution, which needs to be read in the context of Septem- ber 11th 2001 and the ongoing conflicts, suffering and trauma it has produced.

MAKING HISTORY, CHAMPIONING PLURALITY

Philip Bohlman’s chapter stands on the cusp between disciplinary con- cerns and proposals for future directions, neither offering a negative as- sessment of the discipline’s past nor a definitive way forward. Rather, a “new” ethnomusicology, he argues, would involve confronting the forces of history with a plurality of ethnomusicologies, shaped by a common cul- 12 Stobart ture of activism and responsibility. But, as he demonstrates, notions of new and old need careful disentangling. Despite ethnomusicology’s per- sistent urge for disciplinary progress and ongoing debates about naming, Bohlman suggests that the discipline actually resists newness. This is at- tributed to an obsession with its past, a deep and abiding concern for tradition, and a rhetoric in which newness becomes so normative that it ceases to be new. Calling this condition “the paradox of alterity”, he observes that what seems new is in effect only different or Other; in other words new and old are confused with, or serve to camouflage, Self and Other. “What becomes ‘new’ ethnomusicology, thus”, he writes, “is not so much the product of historical change as it is of engagement with the displace- ment and disruption produced by alterity”. This involves activism, in all its plurality of forms, which seeks to give voice to the voiceless, and strives for inclusivity and tolerance—whilst confronting and often working against the grain of the dominant forces of history. In this way, Bohlman suggests, music and ethnomusicology are able to make history, rather than simply act as traces of its hegemony. A plurality of voices and ethnomusicologies is also seen as key to countering the tendency of political leaders to invoke singular forces, whether for example “terrorism”, “Islamism” or “civilization”. Refusing to accept such sin- gularities and revealing their plurality, he argues, serves as a means to dismantle hegemonies and potentially resolve wars. This in turn resonates with Fabian Holt’s “poetics of music in-between”, where instead of ac- cepting or privileging core-boundary models of genre (and thereby accru- ing them greater power and singularity), we employ decentred models that bring the core’s hegemony into question through stressing diversity and transformation. Bohlman seems to be calling for an ethnomusicology that engages with the world and with the making of history, one in which many of us—in our own small and different ways—may already feel (or have long felt) involved, even if not recognised as part of a common culture. But, critically, this endeavour does not emerge from a sense of political correctness or an ethics driven by litigation culture, but from an active (or activist) sense of responsibility. Maybe this is the “new integrity” in- voked by Caroline Bithell (this volume), and perhaps ethnomusicology has an important role to play in working towards a more responsible and engaged music scholarship (whatever this might happen to be called).

A NEW ETHNOMUSICOLOGY?

It is evident from the contributions to the first part of this book that the future of ethnomusicology (or Music Studies?) will almost inevitably need to involve increased openness and plurality in approaches—even if this Introduction 13 ultimately renders disciplinary boundaries all but invisible and names meaningless or obsolete. Whilst ethnomusicology and musicology appear to have become more integrated in recent years, there is clearly no consen- sus, amongst these authors at least, that distinguishing between the two is now entirely redundant. Nonetheless, it is striking how small a proportion of research featuring music (outside the Western art music tradition) is actually completed by ethnomusicologists. For example, among the papers delivered at the Latin American Music Seminar (a six monthly UK-based forum) scarcely 20-30% of the presenters could be classed as an ethnomusicologist; equally typical backgrounds include cultural studies, popular music, sociology, anthropology, modern languages, and conservatoires. Also, surprisingly little about the style, theoretical issues, and sphere of reference or content of these papers tends to distinguish a speaker’s disciplinary background (unless detailed technical analysis of the music is involved, which is usually restricted to musicologists, ethnomusicologists, or performers). In these meetings, disciplinary distinctions are in many respects invisible and redundant. In much the same way, the proposals for future directions in ethnomusicology which form the second part of this book, seem to stress increasing curiosity, experimentation and interdisciplinary. There is certainly no sense of barricading the boundaries or of a triumphalist ethnomusicology on its journey out of marginality, with its eye firmly fixed on dominating the centre ground. Rather, we get a sense of scholars getting on with the work at hand, exploring fresh approaches and technological opportunities, and responding to exciting new challenges. For John Baily, an accomplished player of the Afghan dutār and rubāb, future developments in ethnomusicology need to emphasize learning to perform to an advanced level. He outlines several ways in which practical performance experience may contribute to ethnomusicological practice and understandings, including his own pioneering work on the ergonomics of performance and musical cognition. For many of us, ongoing participation in performance using the skills acquired during research is an integral part of our lives, collaborative work, ongoing learning and teaching (see Solís 2004). Indeed, few would doubt the benefits of participation in performance as a research methodology, where both feasible and culturally appropriate (see Stock, this volume), but Baily’s suggestion that performance proficiency should be pursued to an “advanced level” is more controversial. For example, John Blacking considered that performance, as an end in itself, had no place in the “serious study of music”; for him it was a methodological tool that became largely redundant following fieldwork. However, the temporal, spatial and cultural boundaries between so-called 14 Stobart

“fieldwork” and “everyday life” are more blurred for many of us today than they were for Blacking, especially with the rise of “fieldwork at home” and challenges to self/other or insider/outsider dichotomies. With the death of objectivity (see Bithell), the ethnographer’s own subjective experience of participating in lived musical performance might be seen to take on a new urgency and justification, accompanied by a corresponding shift in focus from explanation to musical knowing and understanding (Titon 1997). In coining the term “intermusability”, Baily stresses this sense of intersubjectivity in participating in musical performance, whilst also revising Mantle Hood’s notion of “bimusicality” (with its implication that musical competencies might be viewed as discrete systems compara- ble to language). Baily’s call for an “advanced level” of performance proficiency suggests the development of correspondingly high levels of musical understanding and knowledge, alongside an enhanced ability to reflect deeply and critically on the music in question. This chimes with current views held in conservatoires concerning the development of practice based research, where it is held that only the most advanced performers should undertake such reseach; those able to demonstrate the outcomes of their research through performance. But do such aspirations for excellence, risk divorcing technical aspects from broader musical and extra-musical contexts, epistemologies and modes of interaction? Indeed in some traditions the notion of an “advanced level” of proficiency, if reduced to the technical, could threaten or undermine an ethos for participation as a primary aesthetic goal (Turino 1993:58, 63). In the context of doctoral research degrees, many questions also remain about how such high levels of performance might be recognised or assessed and by whom. Baily’s concern that we engage with music from practical and performative perspectives, as well as intellectually, stresses the primacy of musical experience—a theme developed by Clayton. Martin Clayton’s chapter challenges ethnomusicologists to engage with music as sonic experience; to move beyond music’s discourses and symbolic representations, as words and images. How might we take more account of the ways humans experience and interpret sound and incorpo- rate this into a music theory more tailored to the nature of its object? To address this question, Clayton first embarks on a survey of approaches to the study of sonic experience, drawing on a wide range of cross- disciplinary perspectives; from philosophy and psychology to semiotics and anthropology. This overview provides a useful introduction to a rich core of literature, including theories of voice, affordance, soundscape, auditory space, attention, schema, gesture, entrainment and groove. For example, drawing on James Gibson’s work on ecological perception, Clay- Introduction 15 ton reminds us that sound is meaningless without the hearing subject, and stresses the profound implications for music theory of treating the sounds of objects or events in terms of “affordances”—our potential to interact with the (sonic) environment. Building on research in psychology, he goes on to suggest that musical meanings are evoked when an individual’s “motor schemas” (representations of body movements that control perception) interact with sonic and other forms of information. Clayton goes on to contrast two forms of perceptual capacity. Firstly, the way the “voice” attracts and focuses our attention, so that we are able to pick out individual voices or lines in complex acoustic soundscapes (“voice centring”). Secondly, the manner in which we actively engage with sound information, locking our attention into particular periodicities in the environment (“entrainment”), such as a musical beat, which potentially leads to feelings of synchrony (shared somatic or emotional states) with others, or the sensation of entering the “groove”. He highlights the tension between these perceptual capacities, which are clearly critical to musical experience, identifying the way that we are able to integrate, employ simultaneously, and switch—more or less consciously—between the two. In the second part of his chapter Clayton puts a number of these theoretical ideas into practice in the context of a North Indian raga performance. He first considers spatial aspects of the performance, sound quali- ty, auditory space, and the relationship between streams of sound—for example the way the singer’s voice emerged from and faded back into the drone. Turning then to ethnographic perspectives, which involve eliciting a range of performer and audience responses, he suggests that the consult- ants’ reported experiences highlight a connection between images, ges- tures and the ascription of character to the music. Returning to his hypoth- esis that meaning emerges when an individual’s “motor schemas” interact with sound stimuli, he argues that the voice is perceived as evidence of bodily patterns of movement, which are then interpreted in terms of the mood or character of the virtual subject. Clayton provides us with a rich array of theoretical perspectives for engaging with the sonic experience of music. Many of these could useful- ly be applied to a wide number of musical contexts, but a high degree of technological investment and expertise is evident from his final analysis of two video clips. Indeed, Clayton’s pioneering work (alongside colleagues in the “Experience and Meaning in Music Performance” project) on “entrainment” in music explicitly exploits the potential of new technologies. The challenge will be to ensure that such techniques become increasingly “user friendly” and that results take forms that can be easily digested, compared and integrated with other approaches. Not only have recent 16 Stobart technological developments, unimaginable a few decades ago, enabled us to apply powerful new forms of analysis to musical phenomena, but also the rise of the Internet has radically transformed the research environment and ways of life. Although 2006 figures estimate 68.6% of the US popula- tion online, the global figure is 15.7%, with only 2.6% for Africa (Internet World Stats 2006). Nonetheless it is within non-English language usage that Internet growth is most marked, rising exponentially from an estimat- ed 10 to 800 million users between 1996 and 2005. This speed of dissemi- nation alongside correspondingly rapid technological advances raises the possibility that Internet connectable solar-powered PCs may well become commonplace in “poorer” parts of the world long before such places are served by mains power, running water, or a road. Abigail Wood’s compelling chapter title “e-fieldwork” helps us focus on some of the ethnomusicological opportunities and challenges presented by the advent of Internet technology. This title might convey the misleading impression that online research is somehow conducted in isola- tion from other fields, but Wood stresses that the Internet is just one location—deeply integrated with others—where people play out their musical lives. Wood’s reflections, emerging from the critical role an email discussion group on Jewish Music and other Internet resources have played in her own research, highlight some of the advantages, characteristics, problems and ethical considerations surrounding the use of the Internet as a music research tool. For example, she observes that email discussion groups are a more natural medium for debating text-based issues than “musical” ones. Nonetheless, I wonder how much the growing availability of high compression sound files, faster downloads, and cheap sound analysis software will inspire scholars and practitioners based in geographical- ly remote locations to collaborate in analysing, comparing and debating a diverse range of musical parameters. Web resources, such “Maqam World” (http://www.maqamworld.com/), suggest that the Internet has much potential for more “musical” perspectives. Not only has the Internet, up until now, been a predominantly urban phenomenon but it also provides particular advantages for research in urban contexts, an important growth area for ethnomusicology (see Stock in this volume). In certain respects the Internet mirrors the kinds of diverse musical networks typical of urban environments, where musical communities tend to be more shaped by shared interests, values, ethnicity or other aspects of identity than by shared physical space. In these types of contexts, as Wood also observes more generally, the Internet (and email in particular) makes getting and staying in touch with “the field”—in all its multiplicity of forms—quicker, cheaper and longer lasting. It is not so much an alternative to traditional modes of fieldwork interaction, but a Introduction 17 valuable addition, enabling us—even when distant from the physical “field”—to strengthen relationships, share experiences, and return to earlier conversations. She also points out that, even though losing the sponta- neity and performative richness of face-to-face contact, email exchanges (or “interviews”) have the advantage of enabling respondents to reply when convenient and to be quoted verbatim, as well as avoiding the self- consciousness often provoked by a microphone. As with any other aspects of ethnographic research, ethical issues and questions of identity—both of the consultant and fieldworker—are potentially problematic in e-fieldwork, and Wood provides some useful refec- tion and guidelines. Like fieldwork more generally, she also stresses that there is no one-size-fits-all model for online research—whether on or off- line; music ethnography requires immense sensitivity and creativity. In this respect, ethnomusicology may have plenty of relevant experience to offer to other areas of music research. In a vision that sees approaches to the study of music becoming increasingly integrated, Jonathan Stock’s chapter outlines seven areas that might benefit from further exploration or development within ethnomusicology. Disciplinary renewal, he observes, is something to which we all contribute through reflecting upon and revising our own practices, even if specialist theoreticians may hasten this progress. It is notable that several of Stock’s chosen themes are drawn from musicology, a seemingly un- fashionable source given ethnomusicology’s historical tendency to turn to anthropology for theoretical inspiration. However, the potential benefit of engaging with the practices of musicology has been noted in several other contributions to this volume, and Stock’s reflections and practical models are both thought provoking and helpful. Stock first turns to the theme of music analysis; an anathema for many ethnomusicologists due to its association with imposing potentially inappropriate “outsider” categories or modes of analysis. However, Stock makes the compelling—if somewhat mischievous—argument that if we are to accept self-reflexive styles of writing, in which the ethnographer’s experience is foregrounded, then we are logically justified to draw on our experience in the creation of musical analyses. Here he echoes the sentiments of Jim Samson (in this volume), who wonders at ethnomusicologists’ reluctance to draw on their own perceptions and exploit the potential of musical analysis. Stock also outlines how analysis has been interpreted as a means to empowerment, where a group’s music is ascribed value and significance through close study, rather than being reduced to a barometer of social process. Music criticism is another medium more familiar to musicology, which Stock suggests ethnomusicologists might benefit from deploying 18 Stobart more widely. He provides an example of his own criticism of a traditional 1950s Shanghai opera and argues that, as a form of representation, this mode of analysis is in fact no more alien than ethnography. According to Stock, an advantage of criticism is that it enables us to pay close attention to an individual work without requiring consideration of how the work might shape or determine broader social processes, especially in large- scale societies where such dynamics might be less relevant. From high- lighting the rich and under-explored potential of biography for ethnomusicological writing (another medium more associated with musicology), Stock turns to the theme of history. Despite ethnomusicology’s growing engagement with historical approaches, especially since the early 1990s, he identifies a need for further theorisation and stresses the ongoing challenges faced when interweaving historical and contemporary materials. In the now burgeoning research into urban and professional musics, Stock observes, practice has pushed ahead of generalised ethnomusicological theory and methodology—much of which was developed in small- scale or community settings. A similar picture of theory lagging behind practice emerges again in his section dedicated to ethnomusicologists at home. Here, he discusses two interrelated and important growth areas: the work of scholars based within their own nations or communities and “applied ethnomusicology”—in which outcomes are typically directed to perceived social or educational benefit (see also Ramnarine in this volume). Finally, Stock insists that a comparative approach, where broader frames of reference are continually refreshed, remains critical to maintaining co- herence within ethnomusicology. The Garland Encyclopedia and New Grove, he suggests, represent renewals of this same comparative urge. However, in these kinds of projects, a thin line might be seen to lie between comparison and mapping the world’s musics—an enterprise that, according to Bigenho (this volume) is at odds with attempts to decolonise and critique the discipline.

CONCLUSION

Rather than dreaming up a “new ethnomusicology” this book seems to point to the need for those involved in the study of music (whether as “object” or “lens”) to focus their energies on adapting to new environments, contexts and opportunities, as well as to continuing to draw inspiration from other disciplines. This vision for the future highlights ever-greater plurality; where plurality might also be seen, as Bohlman has suggested, as a means to dismantle the singularity of hegemony. Bruno Nettl concludes the 2005 revision of his classic The Study of Ethnomusicology by comparing disciplinary relations to those between Introduction 19 wildlife in an African valley. In this interdisciplinary valley the lions of musicology formerly ruled supreme and the few cheetahs of ethnomusicology relied on their wits and speed for survival. Over time, he observes, the cheetahs found an ecological niche and thrived in the valley alongside the lions and other creatures (such as the tigers and foxes of anthropology). However, in recent years, these various animals have been unexpect- edly kind to the cheetahs, which are now in danger of turning into lions and acting like the kings of the valley. Although this may produce a “com- forting feeling”, Nettl stresses the intellectual perils of this kind of new order, recommending instead that ethnomusicologists remain like cheetahs, maintaining intellectual swiftness, disciplinary flexibility and openness to other disciplines (2005:446, 454). As ever, Nettl’s writing is wonderfully evocative and thought provoking, but by casting the allegorical relationship between disciplines in terms of members of distinct species, we are somehow given the sense of unitary and fixed identities: ethnomusicologist cheetahs, musicologist lions, an- thropologist foxes, etc. Overcoming this intimate and emotive connection between discipline and individual identity, encapsulated in such phrases as “we ethnomusicologists” with all the exclusivity and parochiality they potentially invoke, would seem to be a key challenge. Is it not inclusivity, rather than difference, that should be stressed? Also, I wonder, how many individuals working under the wide umbrella of ethnomusicology would consider himself or herself just an ethnomusicologist? Perhaps an alternative version of Nettl’s valley could be proposed in which disciplines take the form of gathering points—shady bowers, wa- terholes, dust bowls, mud baths, forest clearings, hill tops—each providing distinct views, experiences and foods for thought, which attract some creatures more than others. A range of wildlife visits or hangs around any discipline’s gathering points, enjoying the conviviality, searching for tasty scraps, drinking deeply, getting into disagreements or scuffles, or moving in for the kill: docile gazelles, high-spirited meercats, gnawing gerbils, fast-witted leopards, elegant giraffes, scavenging vultures, ponderous ele- phants, and, of course, a few lion kings and queens. The key point is that these creatures are able to move between the valley’s various disciplinary gathering points, each satisfying different needs or appetites and proving more or less welcoming, fashionable or productive. Accordingly, if ethnomusicology is conceived of as, for example, a shady bower, where good conversations and excellent friendships are to be had, rich and abundant food for thought offered, shared values to be found, and from where unique and critical perspectives are offered, then it is likely to be a place that people continue to visit, draw inspiration, pitch camp or set down roots. This in no way diminishes the diverse and im- 20 Stobart mense achievements of those individuals who have worked and continue to work under the umbrella of ethnomusicology, but maybe it is going to be important for the future to emphasise what ethnomusicology has to offer—rather than who is and who is not an ethnomusicologist.

REFERENCES

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